


Desideratum

by what_alchemy



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_alchemy/pseuds/what_alchemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desideratum: from the Latin, something lacked and wanted. Spock has certain shore leave habits he’s kept secret for two years. Jim finally crashes his party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desideratum

Captain Kirk touched Spock an average of thirty-seven times per day. These touches were small and unobtrusive: a palm resting lightly against the small of his back, fingertips grazing his neck during a shoulder clasp, a squeeze around his forearm or bicep in a gesture of camaraderie. These touches had increased steadily since the mission began 23.46 months ago, and Spock noted that they were accompanied by smiles and imploring eye contact 94.39% of the time. When skin met skin, Spock could feel his captain’s affection for him.

Affection. Simple and sweet and, Spock knew, strictly friendly. But it lit him through the loins and up his spine, sent blood searing through his phallus and anus. It was distracting to be forced to control constantly his physiological reactions in Captain Kirk’s presence, and its increasing intensity resulted in a 5% dip in Spock’s efficiency. Spock knew that the only action he could take to slake his desire was to engage in intercourse with a reasonably attractive male who was not a member of the crew. He knew that he could never approach the captain with the truth of his admiration. His captain was disinclined to monogamy or romantic entanglements of any kind. He was, as far as Spock was aware, heterosexual. The captain’s touches were the typical gestures of a tactile man, not invitations for perpetually aroused half-Vulcans to paw at him and declare wild soul-bonding intentions. How would Jim – _the Captain_ , Spock reminded himself – react to that? Would he laugh in that indulgent way he had, joke, and never mention it again, or would he look upon Spock with disgust and order him off his ship? Only alone in his bed during moments of incredible weakness did Spock entertain the notion that Jim would smile at him, stroke his cheek and say _yes, Spock, of course_.

Spock sighed and splashed water on his face. He passed a hand towel over it and straightened to look in the mirror. He brushed some wayward hair into position and regarded himself: a study of angles and planes, the very picture of Vulcan severity. But somewhere in the curve of his cheek, the fullness of his mouth, the glistening softness of his brown eyes, he was human. Somewhere, too, in the thrumming of his blood. Spock believed that no full-blooded Vulcan _needed_ as he did, and perhaps no human felt so acutely the depth of that need.

The locus of Spock’s lusts was his anus; even now, without stimulus, he could feel it throbbing, lamenting its emptiness. It had been too long. He required lavish attention paid it in filthy kisses and touches, he required the stretch and burn and fill of penetration, he required consumptive ownership. Spock would prefer it to be Jim who pushed his way into his willing and needful body, but he needed to set aside fantasy. He needed to assuage his blazing physical needs, and those, he knew, could be sated transiently, without his chosen. Sonic-clean, he reached low to press placating fingertips to his aching hole in promise. It spasmed at his touch and he let out quiet moan.

He closed his eyes. The interval between his last shore leave – his last encounter with a male who could fulfill his sexual requirements – and his next one was coming to a close. He pulled on an asymmetrical black tunic and form-fitting black trousers and studied the long lines of his body. He turned around and craned his neck to see if the trousers properly displayed his meager backside. His buttocks pressed a pert curve into the snug fabric, and he turned back around and met his own gaze.

It would do.

—

Spock found _X’Quadl’s_ by pulling up the starbase’s travel forums and cross-searching _discreet_ and _male homosexual_. Like every place he found a partner, _X’Quadl’s_ was quite far from base proper and therefore unlikely to attract anyone from the _Enterprise_ but him. When he entered, Spock met low lighting, a dull roar, bass-heavy musical beats thumping from speakers in every corner, a writhing crowd and fervent couplings in the shadows. It was sufficient.

Spock slipped between amorous bodies on his way to the bar. No matter how many times he did this, it still took a significant withdrawal from his reserves of courage to arrange himself against the bar in a manner that would highlight his available backside and indicate his amenity to entertaining company for the evening. He managed to coax himself into a provocative pose when he conjured the image of Jim behind him, skimming those sturdy hands over his buttocks in appreciation, pressing his body into Spock’s, whispering filth into his ear. When the bartender, a dark-eyed human lashed with bulging muscles, asked him for his “poison,” Spock requested Altair water and braced his hips against the bar.

It was forty-two seconds before someone big and hulking sidled up to him and set a possessive paw on his hip. When he turned his head to look, he met a thickset humanoid with pale orange skin who growled out something unintelligible that Spock could only assume was a greeting. Spock identified the humanoid as a Prechtan. He was wide, his features clumsy and claylike, not to Spock’s taste, but he preferred to keep interactions civil.

“Excuse me?” Spock said. “I did not hear you.”

“Want for thump?” came the rocky, garbled voice.

“Ah. Though I am flattered, I must decline.”

The grip on his hip tightened.

“Want for thump.”

Spock placed his hand on the orange wrist and pried it off of himself.

“I believe I said no.”

The Prechtan made a grinding sound in the back of his throat, but his block face contorted into some kind of expression Spock ventured as playful.

“Thump two tongues?” And there, two thin tongues flickered out to lick at the seam of sunset-colored lips and Spock’s heart sped up, sending blood searing through his groin. His penis filled, and his anus felt heavy and began to throb in time with his heartbeat. His breath hitched.

“I see.”

The Prechtan hummed in clangs and clatters and placed his mitt fully on Spock’s buttocks and gave one a rough squeeze.

Suddenly, the Prechtan staggered back, and Jim Kirk had somehow materialized in _X’Quadl’s_ and insinuated himself between Spock and his entertainment for the evening.

“Hey, buddy!” his Captain said in a loud, authoritarian voice, shoving the humanoid back. “No means no!”

Dumbfounded, Spock placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Captain—”

Jim whirled around, blue eyes stormy under thunderclap brows.

“This guy bothering you, Spock?”

The Prechtan was grunting behind him, but Jim blocked Spock’s view. Spock leaned sideways to get a glimpse of the creature, who appeared to be pouting.

“Thump no trouble,” he grumbled, then turned and ambled away. The crowd swallowed him. Spock’s testicles roiled in close to his body, and he let out a silent groan.

“Jim,” he said when he turned to face his captain. “What are you doing here?”

Jim suddenly looked self-conscious. He shrugged one shoulder and turned to lean his elbows on the bar, tipping a glass of something pungent and golden back into his throat.

“Followed you,” he mumbled.

“Jim.”

Jim turned around again to face him fully. His eyes were wide, round and beseeching. His cheeks were stained with pink, and he spread his arms open as if in helpless confusion.

“I just wanted to know where you go off by yourself every shore leave. You never even take me up on my offers to do nerd stuff with you. So I came, I saw, and I know I should have left, but I just… you were so, so _sensual_ standing there, and I just had to make sure you’d get… the right type of guy. And see? That one was an asshole, and I made him go away. No need to thank me, or anything.”

Spock squeezed his eyes shut for .32 seconds and let out a long exhale. Other customers jostled him, and he found himself colliding bodily with his captain. Jim steadied him with a grip on both his forearms. Their eyes met, and a flash of heat flared between them.

“I can find my own sexual partners, Jim,” Spock said. “And defend myself from unwanted overtures.” The brightness in Jim’s eyes dimmed.

“I guess you can. Hey. Well, good luck. I’ll go.”

When Jim disentangled himself and made to leave, Spock took his chance to grip Jim by the arm, for once.

“Jim.”

Jim looked up. Spock, after over a decade of living among humans and almost two standard years of studying this particular one very closely, detected hope and fear in equal measures on the expression he encountered when he looked into that familiar and well-loved face.

“Tell me your true motivation for staying once you ascertained the nature of my business here.”

Jim’s mouth took a miserable downward turn and he stood up straight, tugging his arm out of Spock’s grip.

“Can we talk somewhere else?”

Spock gave one nod, and then he was following Jim’s long strides out the door.

—

Jim and Spock walked side by side in silence along the canal that marked the boundaries of the base’s city center. A moon lit the water, and there were no other people, human or otherwise, in sight. Jim shepherded Spock towards a bench overlooking the water. They sat and the silence persisted.

Finally, his loins aching and his patience growing perilously short, Spock said, “Jim, you were the one who wished to speak with me.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Christ, I’m sorry I cock-blocked you. I totally just did that, didn’t I?”

“Indeed.”

“Sorry.”

“Will you please explain your presence at _X’Quadl’s_?”

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. He was wearing a simple white tee-shirt and a worn black jacket over it in false leather. The sight made Spock’s heart stutter with yearning, and then sink with hopelessness.

“I had to make sure you wouldn’t find someone who would hurt you.”

“I am capable of discerning the same information for myself.”

In the moonlight, Spock saw Jim close his eyes, the thick lashes a dark fan against pale cheeks. He had the sudden urge to lick them.

“Look. I didn’t know if you did this all the time or if this was your first time trying out dicksville, and I just wanted to look out for you. And, sure, maybe I stayed out of some kind of prurient interest in your sex life because I’m a big fat perv. But I swear, once you found someone decent, I was gonna leave. That dude wasn’t decent. He was totally gonna wreck you, I could tell.”

Spock was silent. There were too many points to address, and somehow none of them could lead logically to a conversation that conveyed what he wished.

“Spock?”

He turned to look at Jim. Those wide eyes suffused his being with warmth, again. Always.

“Yes, Jim?”

“I didn’t know you liked guys.”

Spock broke away from Jim’s gaze to look out onto the water. Eddies rippled along the surface. He took a breath and let it out slowly.

“The revelation appears to have disturbed you, Captain.”

“Please call me Jim right now, Spock. Please.”

“Jim.”

“I’m not disturbed. I just… I didn’t know. And I wish I had.”

“How does this knowledge change your perception of me?”

Spock counted Jim’s breaths, slow and even. Six of them before he answered in a brittle voice.

“It makes me know I never had a chance on Hades Moon.”

Spock furrowed his brow and faced Jim again. His chin was tucked in close to his chest, and his whole face pinched in a scowl.

“I do not understand,” Spock said.

Jim looked at him full on then, his eyes blazing, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“I could have chalked your total obliviousness up to you only liking women, to just straight up not noticing how crazy I am about you. But you waltz into that _gay bar_ and put your _ass on parade_ for every drooling neanderthal in a ten foot radius, even that, that _vile_ Prechtan. You know they have lumps all over their dicks, right? And not in a good way.”

Spock was aware of his mouth hanging open in a likely unattractive manner, but he found he could do little to persuade it into his proper closed position. Jim stood up and began pacing in front of the bench, hands making big gesticulations as Spock watched.

“You go in there and you let anyone put their nasty hands on you, and you never, you never— God, Spock, you never once hinted you might like for me to pay attention to you like that. You never noticed me being head over ass in love with you.”

Spock felt his throat close around something thick that had gathered at its base.

“Jim—”

Jim paused to stare down at him, his hands falling to his sides, clenching.

“No. No, maybe you did notice. And maybe you were just letting me down easy. Don’t wanna have a weird working relationship with your commanding officer, after all.”

Spock rose and then he was close enough to Jim to feel the heat coming off him, close enough that their noses could graze if he moved just the right way. He could feel Jim’s breath on his lips.

“I did not know you harbored such feelings for me,” he said. “If I had known, I would never have turned elsewhere for fulfillment of my needs.”

Jim’s swallow was audible, and his breath came faster.

“Say what you’re saying, Spock.”

“I desire you, Jim. Only ever you. There can be no comparison.”

The kiss consumed him, wet and fiery and intoxicating. Jim’s hands had come up around Spock’s face, holding him steady while Jim plundered his mouth. Spock gave a low groan and drew Jim’s hips in close. He thrust his sudden hardness against Jim’s answering arousal. Spock’s hands were greedy and his body ached to be closer. He shoved his hands underneath Jim’s tee to absorb the perfect feeling of a flexing back, the top curve of his buttocks. He wished his tunic were gone.

Jim broke away gasping for breath. He cradled Spock’s face and kept him in place, their foreheads pressed together.

“Spock.” Jim’s tone had taken a desperate edge. “Please tell me all that posing at the bar means you want your ass fucked.”

Spock moaned and grabbed one of Jim’s hands from off his face, squeezing when their fingers tangled. He placed that hand on his backside and tried in vain to press closer into the column straining from within Jim’s jeans, one hand cradling the back of Jim’s head, the other gripping Jim’s shirt. Jim caught his mouth again and shoved both hands down Spock’s trousers, one buttock held tight in each wide palm.

“Jim, _please_ ,” Spock said. He poised his hands at Jim’s fly, but Jim pulled his hips away, and his slick kissing mouth left Spock’s in the process.

“We can’t do this here,” he said. “I want a bed and lots of lube and hours without interruption. Beam back up?”

Spock shook his head.

“The likelihood of interruption on the _Enterprise_ increases by 68%. I have secured a room not far from _X’Quadl’s_ for the evening; let us retire there.”

Jim leaned in, and small kisses turned into obscene ones, but they managed to contain themselves long enough to link hands and walk at a brisk pace back to Spock’s hotel.

—

The hotel room was lit with a soft glow and smelled of crisp, fresh laundry. It was clean and the bed was king-sized and boasted cool cotton sheets and a multitude of pillows. On both bedside tables there was an assortment of lubrication. Neither of them noticed these amenities when they finally pushed through the door and landed on the bed in a lustful heap. On his back, Spock spread his legs and Jim thrust himself against the juncture there and they both moaned at the contact. One of Spock’s legs kicked out and toppled a bedside table, lamp, lube and all. Jim pulled away to laugh, and in that pause they regarded each other, Jim’s laughter dying as the heat rose between them. Spock cupped Jim’s face, his thumbs rubbing over the stubbled jaw, the high cheekbones.

“Hey,” Jim murmured. “We’re really doing this.”

Spock nodded.

“As I have yearned to do.”

“God, me too.” Jim leaned down and pressed a soft open-mouthed kiss into Spock’s lips. Spock, suddenly entertaining fanciful notions, imagined that he could gain sustenance from the slow, nourishing draws of lips and tongue and live on them forever. He let himself believe wholly in this moment, untouched by responsibility or reality. Eventually, though, the hot craving that licked through his loins had Spock undoing Jim’s jeans, pushing them down over his backside, and yanking his shirt up over his head.

Jim extricated himself to get properly naked, then set to divesting Spock of his clothes.

“Vulcan civvies drive me _insane_ , Spock, do you have any idea how you look?”

“I had hoped to look desirable, Jim.”

“Yeah,” Jim croaked when the tunic was gone. His eyes roved over Spock’s chest in hungry appreciation, and a spark of electricity thrilled Spock’s hole and danced up his spine. Spock raised his hips at Jim’s encouragement and let him peel the tight trousers off his legs. For a moment, they both just looked at each other. Jim was lean and well-muscled, a fine dusting of hair spreading golden between his two defined pectorals, a darker bronze line leading the eye from the small hollow of his navel to the magnificent phallus that rose smooth, red and slick with pre-ejaculate fluid from its bed of light brown curls. Spock’s mouth grew wet and gluttonous at the sight, and he reached out his hands. At the press of their bare bodies against each other, months of longing compressed and burst in a cacophony of sensation. Jim’s breath came short and uneven as he gripped their penises together and began to pump a clumsy rhythm that nonetheless had them both moaning and writhing.

Spock flipped them so Jim lay prone, and he began to explore Jim’s skin with his hands and tongue. He nibbled at his neck and shoulder, sucked across the collarbone, drew a trail to sweet pink nipples tightening against the onslaught. When Jim gasped Spock’s name, the ache in his hole grew more insistent, but the need to taste Jim was his more pressing priority. He licked and sucked his way down Jim’s body until he reached the hard, leaking phallus. Flicking his eyes up, he met Jim’s dazed eyes before opening his mouth wide and swallowing Jim down.

The sound Jim emitted was nothing short of a scream. His back bowed and he arched into Spock’s mouth. Spock savored the thick column of flesh that overwhelmed his senses, sucking zealously on the smooth head and slurping up his fluids. One hand pumping firmly around the base, Spock set a devastating rhythm that sent Jim into fits of mewling and swearing. Hands rested in his hair, occasionally tugging in convulsive pleasure, but the sensation only spurred Spock on to take Jim’s girth deeper, slicking his prize with saliva as he moaned around it. Spock’s own penis felt full enough to burst, and he snaked one hand down to press on it hard enough to keep himself from coming.

Jim pulled Spock up off his penis and into another kiss, pressing him down against his body, groins flush. Jim’s hands roamed the expanse of Spock’s back until they rested on his buttocks. His fingertips played along Spock’s crack, his testicles and perineum. Spock pushed back into the contact.

“ _Jim,_ ” he pled.

Jim gave a soft laugh. “You need this, Spock? Need attention on your sweet little ass?”

Spock groaned and buried his face into Jim’s shoulder, balancing himself with knees around Jim’s hips as he humped against the pressure of Jim’s hard penis against his own. He locked his arms around the back of Jim’s neck and wriggled back into his hands.

“Yes,” he hissed out.

“Dirty talk too?”

“Yes, yes, Jim, please.”

Jim let out some kind of low growl that lit all the blood in Spock’s veins. He flipped them over so Spock was splayed on his stomach and Jim was stroking greedy hands along his shoulders, his back, his flanks, and finally, finally, his buttocks. At Jim’s touch there, Spock bellowed out an undignified sob and shoved his face further into the pillows.

“Yeah, you do like that. You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, Spock you have no idea. Waiting for me to fuck you.”

Jim spent long moments caressing Spock’s buttocks before he parted them by cupping them in both hands and spreading them gently. Spock’s hole winked and quivered in anticipation, and he relished Jim’s gaze on this, the most intimate and needy part of himself. He pushed up into Jim’s hands, clenching his anus against the scrutiny.

“Spock,” Jim breathed, voice thick. “God, you’re so fucking perfect. Better than anything I’ve dreamed.” A hand left his right cheek, and Spock felt a warm finger trail down his crack until it came to the supple, responsive rim of his anus. “Fuck, Spock, your asshole’s so _hot_ , pouring heat like a furnace. Fuckin’ perfect. Unh.” Jim applied the slightest pressure, moving his fingertip in a soothing circular motion. Spock moaned and began to rock up into the pressure in an attempt to encourage Jim into further exploration.

“Now, now,” Jim said. “Have a little patience, Mr. Spock.” With that, Jim leaned down and licked the flat of his tongue from Spock’s scrotum to his hole, and Spock’s eyes crossed and rolled back behind his fluttering eyelids. He was unsure of the nature of the high-pitched sound he made in answer. Jim hummed a little laugh against Spock’s perineum, then set to his task in earnest.

Jim spread Spock’s buttocks wide and buried his face in the crevice, nosing around the crisp hairs at the top, flickering the tip of his tongue against the outer ring of his hole. He licked and sucked around the outside until Spock was writhing against the sheets, penis producing copious lubricant as he tried to hump into the mattress. Jim’s hands on his hips kept him steady, his straining phallus untouched. Jim swiped quick, firm licks all around the outside, and when Spock’s hole relaxed minutely, Jim pressed his tongue inside more insistently, dipping in and out and dragging the tip hard around the circumference. Mangled syllables lost meaning in the pillows, grunted out without thought beyond the incandescent sensations igniting his being. Spock braced himself on his shoulders and reached back with both hands to spread himself wider.

“Ungh, fuck, Spock, that’s so hot. Your asshole is perfect, I love eating your ass. You like it? You like my tongue up your ass? Spock, tell me.”

“Yes!”

“Tell me.”

“I... I like your tongue inside me, Jim, I, I—”

“Mm, it’s so fucking good, isn’t it? Love this sweet ass, been thinking about it so long. You taste amazing, you know that?”

“Mmmng.”

“You’re being so good, Spock. Just a little more rimming and we’ll fill you up just how you need it, okay?”

“Please, Jim. Please.”

“All right.”

Jim’s mouth sealed around Spock’s anus and sucked with fervor, his tongue whirling the rim and then dipping inside as deep as it would go. Spock began to keen continuously, and with Jim’s appreciative groans, the din in the room grew to a loud dissonance that neither cared to censor. One of Jim’s hands crept up between Spock’s legs and gave his penis a tight squeeze. He began to pump with hard, slow strokes, but Spock brought one of his hands around and stilled the movement.

“Don’t,” he gasped. “I do not wish to orgasm yet.”

Jim hummed and let go of Spock’s penis, but their hands tangled and held, and the contact was so intimate and bare that Spock shuddered through suppressing his climax anyway. Finally Jim rose and pressed sucking kisses into Spock’s tailbone and up his spine. Spock whined, thrusting himself back. Jim laughed and stroked his hands up and down Spock’s sides.

“Getting there, Mr. Spock.”

“You enjoy my suffering.”

“Yep.”

“You are being deliberately cruel.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jim—”

“Hush now and enjoy this, Spock.”

Jim settled behind him and laid his head on Spock’s left buttock. He could feel the warm puff of Jim’s sigh against the skin there, and then the caress of Jim’s hand. Jim slid a finger into the crevice and found his spit-slack hole with impressive accuracy. With the lightest encouragement, Jim’s finger slid all the way in and both of them groaned.

“Fuck, Spock, your hungry little hole just sucked me right in.” Jim began a slow side to side movement, spreading him open in sure strokes. Spock felt his inner walls shudder at the sensation of stimulation.

“Jim, you— ah!”

Jim began to thrust his finger in and out of Spock’s anus, loosening him up in an ever-widening circular motion until he added another finger. Spock moaned at the tight fit, but he accommodated it without difficulty. Jim drizzled lubrication down Spock’s crack and worked it into his hole.

“Spock. Tell me you like this. Tell me how greedy your asshole is.”

“Jim, I’m not—”

“Please, Spock.” He punctuated his request with a firm press on Spock’s prostate. Spock shouted and got on his hands and knees, head bowed low, to thrust back onto Jim’s hand. Jim’s other hand stroked along the line of his back, soothing.

“I am— I’m—”

“Just tell me how it feels to have my fingers in you.” Jim slid them almost all the way out, then slammed them back in. Spock gave a cry, rutting back in earnest.

“Arousing. Exhilarating. Intimate, Jim, Jim, it’s _good_ , I need—”

“Need more, Spock?”

“Please. Please.”

Jim moved fully behind him and steadied Spock’s rocking with his free hand on the small of Spock’s back. Slowly, he pushed in a third finger, and the stretch was excrutiatingly gratifying. Spock keened, spreading his knees further.

“There,” Jim said, breathless. “Fuck, look at you, my fingers up your ass. Jesus, Spock, I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful.”

“Jim,” Spock’s voice cracked. “I desire you now, _now_.”

“Hold on, gorgeous. One more finger, okay?”

Spock made a mournful, quavering sound and rested his head on the pillows again. He tried to push back onto Jim’s fingers, but the depth of penetration was insufficient.

“Hurry,” he said.

He heard Jim shifting behind him, his fingers twisting and spreading inside his anal cavity. Spock felt his whole body heat with exertion and arousal, his breath harsh as he groaned his approval. Jim plastered his body to the side of Spock’s, and then his mouth was kissing all along Spock’s shoulders and back.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmured into Spock’s skin. “Gonna make you feel so good, give you what you need.”

He curled his fingers in and out, brushing Spock’s prostate with devastating precision. Spock had lost the ability to command words. Spock’s anus was open and grasping, eager. Spock felt Jim insert his smallest finger with caution, and then the entire flat of Jim’s palm was inside him up to the thumb. Four cramped fingers hooked at his prostate. Spock rose, threw his head back, and wailed.

“God,” Jim gasped, “God, Spock, you’ve got half my hand in you. _Fuck_ , Spock, Spock, _unh_.” He gave his hand a small twist and Spock drove himself backwards into the point of connection.

“Jim, now, now, now, now—”

With a squelch Jim dislodged his hand and pushed Spock onto his back. He wiped his hand off on the sheet. His face was red and perspiring, his eyes blazing a brighter blue. His mouth was pink and swollen, glistening. Spock rose on his elbows and Jim met him halfway, the kiss searing and sloppy with careless tongues and too much saliva. Jim slid into position, his pelvis cradled in Spock’s hips, one of Spock’s knees hooked in an elbow and the other over Jim’s shoulder. Their eyes met and Jim pushed inside in one firm stroke. Spock’s head snapped back and his mouth opened wide around the resultant scream. There was no moment during intercourse he savored more than the first thrust of penetration, of an emptiness so suddenly, ecstatically filled, of a flood after a season of drought. He came back to himself and opened his eyes to find Jim’s face hovering over his, the tension around his mouth and brows betraying the strain he was under.

“You good?” he asked, voice strangled.

Spock brought his hands up around Jim’s face, letting Jim’s awe and admiration and bight hot _love_ spread warm as a desert breeze all around and through him.

“ _T’hy’la_ ,” he breathed. “There has never been anything better.”

Jim gave a little moan and bent down for a kiss that took on a remarkable tenderness. Jim began to circle his hips, undulating in tiny, controlled motions as Spock held himself open and accommodated the hot thick slide of Jim’s penis inside him. Spock’s hands slid down Jim’s back to hold on to him by his well-formed backside, and he encouraged deeper thrusts until Jim tore away from his mouth to gasp. He pulled out, the slick glide and slackening of Spock’s hole a deep, exquisite pleasure. Then he thrust back in with zealous verve. Spock’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Again,” he panted. Jim obliged him, and soon they were colliding body to body, Jim’s thick penis deep inside Spock, Spock’s own phallus trapped, full, wet, and lolling, in the space between Jim’s flat belly and his own. Spock felt his lusts merge with his most earnest wishes in the riot of his body in concert with Jim’s, in the fire that their shared jumble of emotions ignited between them. To have Jim inside him was to feel entirely whole for the first time, replete in fulfillment and belonging. Jim surrounded him on all sides, consumed him from within, and Spock felt immolated, born again a new and beautiful thing like a phoenix from the flames of passion.

Jim fumbled for Spock’s penis and began to pump. It was slippery with lubricating fluid, and he lost his grip several times, but his hands were firm and enthusiastic and Spock’s testicles rose and swelled as he ascended toward orgasm. He locked his legs around Jim’s back and pulled him deeper and harder and faster. Jim stammered out the first sounds of Spock’s name and grunted with each thrust, his strokes stuttering as he approached climax.

“Jim— mnnngh!” Spock’s orgasm mounted and then he was soaring, blinded as his eyes rolled back. Everything went white and stars burst behind his eyelids. He was dimly aware of his own semen splashing across his stomach and into his chest hair, a glob catching on his chin. When his eyes opened in dazed slits, Jim overwhelmed his line of vision, the expression on his face awed and wrecked and overcome with lust all at once.

“Spock, fuck, I’m gonna— I need—”

Jim trembled and shoved himself forward into Spock as far as he could go. He shouted, pouring his orgasm into Spock’s body. He jolted through the aftershocks and slumped into Spock’s arms. Spock stroked his head and sides as he came back through the haze of pleasure. Spock settled his arms around Jim’s shoulders and held him close, passing his lips over Jim’s forehead, his cheekbones, his eyes and ears.

Jim slid to one side, careful to extract his penis gently. He wiped at himself with the corner of a sheet and lay there boneless for a moment before sitting up to attend to the mess he’d left inside Spock. As Jim dabbed at the loose, sore hole and the semen that leaked from within, Spock let the barest hint of a smile settle on his lips. He wiped through his own ejaculate with a cloth from the bedside table that still stood upright, and when they were both sufficiently cleaned, he drew Jim back down to his chest. Jim sighed and nuzzled into his collarbone, one hand splaying between Spock’s pectorals. Occasionally he tugged on the hair there.

“Stop that,” Spock said, tone lazy. His eyes drooped.

“I like it, though.”

“Pet it then, do not pull.”

“Hmph.”

Spock was lulled, drowsy and satisfied, into a state between sleeping and wakefulness. Then,

“Spock?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“That was awesome.”

Spock let himself feel the glimmerings of happiness. Where Jim’s skin met his, that is, over the entire length of his body, Spock felt the strong thrum of Jim’s own sated contentment.

“For once, your use of that word is accurate. I must agree.”

Jim wriggled until his head was on the pillow beside Spock’s, and he looked into Spock’s face rather curiously.

“So did you really go out and get laid at gay bars every shore leave?”

Spock refrained from tightening his lips in consternation.

“Jim, like you, I have certain physical needs. I need not justify how I went about fulfilling them in the past.”

Jim cupped his jaw, stroking his thumb along Spock’s cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just… it’s not what I expected. That’s all. We were both lily-livered cowards afraid to approach each other, so I can’t judge.”

Spock covered Jim’s hand with his own, entangling their fingers. He turned Jim’s hand palm out and pressed his mouth to the center. He sucked the pulse point at Jim’s wrist. Jim’s breath hitched.

“I believed you were heterosexual, and I could not bear the thought of your rejection,” Spock said. “I nursed my regard for you in the privacy of my heart and mind. I told myself you would never return that regard. When the opportunity arose, I would seek physical gratification elsewhere, but always it was empty. Always you were away from me.”

Jim levered himself over Spock to kiss him on his cheeks, on both eyes, on the slanting brows and over the high regal forehead, on the bridge of his nose and the tip of it, on his chin and his swollen lips.

“Me too,” he said. He lay back down and pulled Spock onto his side so they faced each other, close enough to breathe each other’s air. “I thought you couldn’t possibly be interested. I thought I’d made myself embarrassingly transparent, and if you weren’t doing anything about it, it meant you didn’t want me.”

“We were both mistaken, _t’hy’la_.”

“What does that mean? It’s nice.”

“It means you are mine and I am yours. It is all that lies between us, that which makes us one. It is the faithful and ardent nature of our union.”

“Oh. I like it.”

Spock’s mouth curved minutely. Jim brought his thumb up to trace Spock’s lips, and Spock caught the callused pad between his teeth and bit lightly. Jim’s smile turned wicked.

“Is this moment too sweet to bring up what a total slut you are for dirty talk?”

Spock bit down harder on Jim’s thumb. Jim yanked it out of his mouth, laughing.

“Hey! Don’t be like that. I thought it was hot, anyway.”

Spock dragged Jim closer to himself, their spent genitals flush against each other, their legs tangled together. Jim’s scent was familiar and comforting, a dark male smell transformed into a dizzying aphrodisiac by their ardor.

“My sexual proclivities and yours seem to be complementary. We should be only grateful.”

“Oh, I am,” Jim assured him, touching the tip of his nose to Spock’s. Their hands were clasped together in the space between their chests. “Spock?”

“Hm?”

“Speaking of complementary…”

“What is it, Jim?”

“Do you always like to be fucked? Is that… Is that how you usually are?”

Spock blinked into hopeful blue eyes.

“It is my preference, yes,” he said. Jim managed to look both excited and relieved. Spock continued, “I find penetration… exceedingly pleasing. Aside from the bodily pleasure, there is a curious sense of simultaneous oblivion and security, freedom and belonging. Especially with the proper partner.”

Jim squeezed his hand, eyes bright. He was nodding.

“Did you get that? With your shore leave guys?”

“You are jealous.”

“Well, yeah. But I mean… was that what you were looking for, and did you find it?”

Spock laid the lightest kiss on Jim’s lips, barely a touch. It was soft and ached with sweetness.

“What I ‘got,’” he said when he pulled back, “was the physical sensation of being penetrated, which is only one component of the experience I spoke of. Before I met you, I could often capture the rest fleetingly, and that engendered in me only the desire for more. In my few romantic associations, I was able to achieve that, but those relationships were obviously short-lived. After I met you, and my esteem for you grew into …this, I knew my experiences in any sexual activity without you would be limited to the physical. I enjoyed penetration on a physical level, therefore I sought it out, but it was no longer fulfilling. I became frustrated and, occasionally, I identified within myself feelings of despair. You ask me if I found what I was looking for. I found it in you, and now I have you. That is what is of import to me, now.”

Jim kissed him as if not doing so were an unspeakable torment. He let go of Spock’s hand and wound his arms tight around him, their chests touching.

“I love you,” Jim said. “It’s not very eloquent, or whatever, but it’s what I have. I love you, Spock. I have for a really, really long time. It probably would have come pouring out of my mouth sooner or later, even if we hadn’t gotten our dumbass act together tonight. I couldn’t have contained it much longer.”

“I was paralyzed into inaction. Surely if you had ever said such a thing to me, I could only be grateful that the depth of your affections matched my own, and I would have confessed a similar sentiment.”

“Is that an ‘I love you too, James Kirk, you handsome devil?’”

“Indeed.”

“Good. Well. Just so you know, I’m totally always gonna be into giving that perfect ass of yours everything it wants. Consider me your ass’s own personal satellite.” Jim’s hands slid down to Spock’s buttocks in emphasis.

“Duly noted,” Spock said.

Jim’s grin shone like a life-giving sun. Spock sent an utterly illogical wish into the stars: that he and Jim would never be parted. When he opened his eyes and saw the universe in Jim’s adoring blue gaze, he knew there would be time enough for that.  


Gorgeous art by [cannedebonbon](http://cannedebonbon.livejournal.com/97950.html)


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